Statalia: The Man, the Meme, the Legend
by Father of Understanding
Summary: With states seriously considering the Green New Deal, one state makes a stand. (This is based off something that actually happened. I tried to make it as accurate as possible. Warning for politics?)


**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I also don't intend to offend anyone—I just wanted to put a Hetalia spin on something funny that happened, and any stereotypes are simply stereotypes. I'm sure all of ya are wonderful people.**

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March 26, 2019 was a lovely afternoon in the Senate building. All the states sat gathered together, a cacophony of voices yelling at each other echoing around the politically sacred space. America himself was in the front, his forehead slamming against the wooden desk repeatedly. _Will this headache never cease?_

"Attention!"

A hush fell over the personifications. Michigan let Ohio out of a headlock and, after checking to make sure she suffered no permanent damage, the two dispersed with no hard feelings. California took a quick "natural" selfie. Colorado stared off into space, which she could probably touch given how high she was at that moment.

Utah rose with a three-legged stand in hand. He set it up to his right. Straightening his suit jacket, he adjusted his glasses and began his speech. "My fellow states and representatives of America," he said, "I stand in front of you to discuss the _innovative_ idea that New York proposed a while back called the Green New Deal. I will treat it with all the seriousness it deserves."

He gestured for his assistant to bring something up. She rushed forward with a large rectangle under her arm and her other hand covering her mouth. She set it on the stand and stepped back. Utah nodded seriously at the image. "This is, of course, a picture of former president Ronald Regan, naturally firing a machine gun while riding on the back of a dinosaur."

America looked up suddenly. Virginia put her phone down. Texas brought her hand to her chin to thoughtfully admire it.

"You'll notice a couple of important features here. First of all," Utah pointed, "the rocket launcher strapped to President Reagan's back. And then the stirring, unmistakable patriotism of the velociraptor holding up a tattered American flag."

Indeed, that was the picture.

"Now, critics might quibble with this depiction of the…climactic battle of the Cold War because, while awesome—"

"Like Prussia!"

"—there _was_ no climactic battle. There was no battle with, or without, velociraptors. Which is really a shame if we think about it. Alexa, place Despacito."

The first bar of the song played from Idaho's speakers. Even Alaska and his cold heart cracked a smile. Utah gave her the "good job" hand gesture.

"Everyone knows the Cold War was won without a firing a single shot—we were all there. Lovely times." Utah's tone turned serious. "This image has as much to do with overcoming communism in the 20th century as the Green New Deal has to do with overcoming climate change in the 21st century."

The more liberal states tuned out at this, but America, for once, stayed focused. He really liked dinosaurs.

"There is not a _single _serious idea here," Utah said and threw his papers on the table before him. "They've been called extreme, but mostly they're just plain _ridiculous_.

"Rule number one: the Green New Deal essentially calls for the elimination of airplanes."

America and North Carolina gasped. South Dakota patted her twin's head.

"In a future without air travel, how are we supposed to get around the vast expanse of, say, Alaska, during the winter, _and for the love of all things holy, California, that was not a fat joke_."

Alaska deflated slightly, his massive frame slumping. "But it is true, da?"

Hawaii hugged him. "You're perfect just the way you are."

"That you are, Vlad, and you're just as much a part of our family as everyone else, even the territories. But now we're getting a little off topic." Utah pointed at his assistant, and she exchanged the image for a new one. "You may wonder how, without airplanes, we're expected to make it around the northern lands in the coldest seasons. It's obvious." Utah vigorously gesticulated at the picture, which was a US soldier riding atop one of the Star Wars snow lizards. "Tauntauns, America! It is a beloved species of repto-mammals native to the ice planet of Hoth. While they aren't quite as efficient in some ways as, um, airplanes, or snowmobiles, these hairy, bipedal species of space lizards offer their own unique benefits."

New York raised her hand. "I—"

"I'm not done yet," Utah snapped. "I have the floor now. Let me speak.

"Anyway, as I was saying, not only are tauntauns carbon _neutral_, but according to a report from a long time ago and issued far, far away, they _may_ even be _fully_ recyclable and used for their warmth on a cold night.

"Enough about the frozen. How about the isolated? Hawaii is two thousand miles out in the Pacific, and, I really truly love you, Akoni, but I'm not completely sure that I'm capable of walking that far across water." Utah chuckled, and a couple of other states, Hawaii included, joined in. "Swimming, while healthy, is probably deadly for non-personifications, and jet skis are notorious gas guzzlers. No. All residents of Hawaii would be left with this."

Once again, the image on the stand was swapped out. "This is a picture of Aquaman, the superhero from the undersea city of Atlantis and a founding member of the Superfriends. I draw your attention, America, to the twenty-foot impressive seahorse he is riding. Under the Green New Deal, this is probably Hawaii's best bet, which is good for him because he's fantastic at making friends.

"I'll admit that a massive fleet of giant, highly trained seahorses would be really, _really_ cool, and it would make us even more like superheroes! But America, this is bad for the environment. Think about how these seahorses will miss their families. Maybe they have a picture of their wife and twenty thousand children tucked away in their pouch. America, we cannot allow this level of workers neglect to happen."

Utah shuffled his papers. "Rule number two: the Green New Deal anticipates the elimination of all cows."

Texas shot up. "What in tarnation? What kinda stupid law is that?"

"Please sit. I'll explain more in a moment."

Grumbling, Texas stuck a blade of wheat in her teeth, adjusted her hat, and sat back down. Nebraska and Kansas handed her a snack.

"Forgive me for paraphrasing here, but the sponsors of this resolution claim the goal is to get rid of flatulating cows." Utah cast a look at the Aquaman picture. "If they think the cows smell bad, just wait until they get a whiff of the seahorses."

For not the first time, and almost certainly not the last time in the speech, a new image took the stand. On the left was the silhouette of one-hundred and twenty-six cows labeled US Cattle Population 2019. The right side was labeled US Cattle Population Under Green New Deal. The right side was completely empty. "As you can see, America, the left side shows the bovine population of America as it is today. And the right side is the future population under the Green New Deal. We would go from 94 million cows to zero cows. No more milk. No more cheese. No more steak. No more hamburgers!"

America started crying. Wisconsin fainted. Texas chewed harder on the gum her cow siblings offered as sacrifice. Utah quickly added, "But remember that this is all just a proposal. Nothing has been set in stone yet."

"And it never will be if I got anythin' ta say about it!" Texas hollered.

California scoffed. "As if we could shut your big mouth anyway."

"You wanna _go?!_"

"On that note," Utah loudly continued, "I went to a lot of farms in my state, and every cow I spoke to had the same outlook on this proposal: boo!

New York, once again, raised her hand. "I protest."

"The authors of this proposal will protest." Everyone looked at New York. "These goals are not _actually_ part of the Green New Deal and simply included in supporting documents that were accidentally sent out by the lead sponsor in the House of Representatives, but America, our best dad, this only supports my point more.

"The supporters of the Green New Deal want Americans to trust them, to reorganize our entire society, economy, and restructure our very way of life, and they couldn't even figure out how to send out the right press release."

Utah was in the home stretch. Those states still listening were hooked on his every word. He loosened his tie ever so slightly. "You see, the Green New Deal is not a serious policy document because it isn't a policy document at all! It is a token of elite, tribal identity and endorsing it is a public act of piety for the chic and woke.

"The reality of climate change really hit home when my state, Utah, was hit by something—not simply a tornado, America, but by a tornado with sharks." For the actual final time, the picture on the stand changed, this time to images from the famous movie Sharknado 4. "These images are from a documentary of this natural disaster. They captured the precise moment one of the tornado sharks crashed through the window. It was devastating.

"Climate change is not a joke, but the Green New Deal is a joke. It is the legislative equivalent of Austin Powers' Doctor Evil, demanding sharks with friggin' lasers on their heads. The Green New Deal is _not_ the solution for climate change—it's not even _part_ of the solution. Rather, it's part of the _problem_. The _real_ solution won't be found in political posturing or virtue signaling like this." Utah raised the pile of papers high. "It won't be found in the federal government at all." He ripped the papers in half and threw them in a nearby trash can. "Finally, this plan is home: in the garbage."

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**The man who actually did this is the Utah representative in the Senate called Mike Lee. I highly recommend you look it up because it is much better than I could ever articulate; I'd put a link, but links are forbidden. Have a wonderful day!**


End file.
